


Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever... but What About a Psychic?

by DinerGuy



Category: Psych
Genre: Case, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has their sick days. For a few lucky people, they’re conveniently placed over a long weekend, or when there isn’t much work to be done at the office. For the rest of the world, including Shawn Spencer, they come at the worst time possible.</p><p>Now it's up to his friends to make sure he still has a job to get back to when he gets better</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came from Kkarrie and me not having cable during "Feet Don't Kill Me Now". 
> 
> Possible minor spoilers for season 5 episodes. Definitely spoilers for all other seasons.
> 
> Disclaimer: Psych and all its lovely characters don't belong to us. We're simply borrowing them for fun and are making no money from this. No copyright infringement (only flattery!) is intended.

Everyone has their sick days. For a few lucky people, they’re conveniently placed over a long weekend, or when there isn’t much work to be done at the office. For the rest of the world, they come at the worst time possible. Sometimes the person will soldier through, arming themselves with boxes of Kleenex and enough cough syrup to supply a small country. Other times, there’s nothing they can do except stay home, curl up on the couch, surround themselves with fluids and Kleenex, and do nothing except watch a season or two of their favorite show.

* * *

Shawn pulled yet another tissue from the box on the sofa beside him, honking slightly as he blew his nose for the umpteenth time. His phone, which was sitting on the end table next to a giant bottle of blue Gatorade, began to ring.

  
As the chorus to “Ebony and Ivory” reached his ears, he knew it was Gus. He sighed, paused the current episode of Magnum PI, and reached over to answer the call. “Yes, Gus, I am keeping my body liquefied and I’m taking it easy,” he told his friend before Gus even had a chance to say hello.  
  
“Whatever, Shawn. Just listen for a second. Remember that reporter chick who called us a few weeks ago about setting up an interview?”  
  
“Yeah ...” Shawn fiddled with a loose thread on his blanket. “What about the... Oh crap, that’s today,” he suddenly observed.  
  
“Yes Shawn, that’s today.” Gus said, his voice slightly panicked. “What are we going to do? The reporter is bringing a photographer over to the office in a few hours.”  
  
“Well buddy, it looks like you’ll just need to tell them I’m sick.” Shawn laughed slightly before he started coughing into the phone.  
  
“That’s not going to work this time, Shawn. This interview is really important to the department. If we bail out, they’re going to think you’re a fake, which, although it’s true, isn’t something we want published in a national magazine, especially one as important as Back Up. ” Gus’s voice was now frustrated.  
  
“Then I guess you’ll just have to pretend to be the psychic today.” Shawn yawned into the phone. Being sick always made him lethargic and this conversation wasn’t helping his concentration at all.  
  
“Shawn, I can’t pretend to be the psychic one again. Uncle Burton still won’t shut up about his last visit,” Gus protested over the phone. “What about Lassiter? He’s a good detective. He might be good at it.”  
  
“Seriously, that’s your best idea: Lassie? What if they plan on taking pictures? We don’t want to scare the readers,” Shawn objected. “Buzz would work. I’ve always thought our striking jaw lines resembled each other, and you know I’ve always been mistaken for being taller than my height. The hair would be the only problem; you can’t solve a crew cut in two hours. Besides, when did Lassie and the police get involved?”  
  
“When you opened your big mouth and started solving cases for them. The chief really wants this interview to go well, because it will give the department a good public image.”  
  
“Well, Buzz’s image will have to do for today. Putting me on the cover won’t work this time. I’m not looking my best right now. I mean it, dude; my hair hasn’t been this unexciting  
since freshman year of high school.”  
  
“There’s something you might have forgotten, Shawn. Buzz isn’t psychic, nor did his dad train him to be a super cop, so he’s not going to be any help,” Gus reminded his friend. From the sounds coming over the phone, Shawn could tell Gus was driving, most likely on his way to sort out the predicament.  
  
“You know, as much as Buzz isn’t going to be any help, I just don’t know how me sitting on a couch is going to be any help either.” Shawn yawned again. “Good luck figuring it out buddy, I really need to finish this episode so I can take a nap, even though I know the girlfriend did it. These writers weren’t very creative.” Gus heard a click as Shawn hung up the phone.  
  
“Thanks for nothing,” Gus grumbled into the silent phone. He put his phone away and focused on the road. He made a quick left and headed for the police station. If anyone would help him out it was Juliet O’Hara. Gus knew she would have an idea of how to get him out of this mess.

* * *

“What do you mean, Shawn’s sick?” Juliet’s voice was as panicked as Gus’ had been when he’d realized the interview was that afternoon. “He can’t be sick today of all days. Do you know how much this interview will mean to the department and how much it would hurt our reputation if it gets canceled last minute?”  
  
Gus nodded. “Believe me, I do. But there’s just no way he’s going to be any help even if he does manage to get down to the office. He’s officially out of commission for the next few days.”  
  
Juliet sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Well, this is just perfect,” she sighed.  
  
“What’s perfect?” Lassiter asked, coming over to his partner’s desk carrying a cup of coffee.  
  
“Lassiter, what are you doing here on a Saturday?” Gus asked, even though he really wasn’t surprised to see the head detective there.  
  
“I’m always here on Saturday, except the first and third mornings of every month. That’s when I’m supposed to meet with my therapist.” Lassiter spat out the word therapist as if it was akin to the word murderer or arsonist.  
  
“Carlton, this is the first Saturday of the month,” Juliet pointed out after a moment.  
  
Lassiter shrugged. “What, you think criminals are going to stop committing crimes from nine to eleven so I can sit on a couch and talk about my feelings?” Lassiter rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. “I decided to not go today so I could work on some things.”  
  
“Things like a perfect cup of coffee.” Juliet couldn’t help but smile despite the glare Lassiter gave her.  
  
“Can we get back to the real problem? Shawn is sick, and there’s going to be a reporter at the Psych office in two hours wanting to talk to a psychic detective about how his particular brand of deduction helps the police department on a weekly basis,” Gus snapped.  
  
“Spencer is sick?” Lassiter didn’t sound concerned. In fact, if Gus had to put a name to the tone in Lassiter’s voice, it would be glee or some other happy-sounding word.   
  
“Yes. Some nasty bug that seems to have made itself at home with him,” Gus said. “And now the reporter from Back Up is going to show up looking for Shawn Spencer and won’t be able to interview him.”  
  
“At least someone can live with him,” Lassiter commented. “Shouldn’t he have seen this coming anyway. He is a ‘psychic’, after all.”   
  
O’Hara smacked her partner in the shoulder. “Carlton, this is very serious. The chief wants this interview to go smoothly so the department can get some good PR. I think we at least owe it to the chief to figure something out. What would she say if she came back from vacation and found out the interview was canceled?” Juliet chastised her partner.  
  
“Fine,” Lassiter agreed, rubbing his shoulder. “Did Spencer have any ‘psychic’ ideas about what we should do while he’s sick?”  
  
Gus could hear the air quotes around the word ‘psychic’ as Lassiter’s tone picked up the normal sarcastic edge it adopted when he talked about Shawn’s job with the department.  
  
“He suggested we find someone to pretend to be him for the interview.” Gus explained to them.  
  
“I will not pretend to be Spencer.” Lassiter objected.  
  
Gus snorted in laughter. “He didn’t suggest you. He suggested McNab.” He purposefully left out the reasoning behind Shawn’s not suggesting the head detective.  
  
Now it was Lassiter’s turn to snort in laughter, which nearly resulted in coffee coming out his nose. “McNab? I suppose we’re supposed to find a fake crime scene for the fake psychic to investigate as well?”  
  
“That could work,” Juliet mused.  
  
Lassiter stared at her. “O’Hara, I wasn’t being serious.”  
  
“Well, I was. Think about it. The magazine gets what they need, and we don’t have to worry about pulling it off at a real crime scene. We can adjust the surroundings to fit what we need. It’ll be tailor-made so Buzz doesn’t have to work too hard to find the clues.”  
  
“You might be onto something,” Gus nodded.  
  
“Wait,” Lassiter protested. “You can’t seriously expect this to work. Where are you going to get a personalized crime scene? None of us have the skills to stage a crime, not to mention that we don’t have the place for one either.”  
  
“We don’t,” Gus admitted, “but I know someone who does.” He held up his cell phone. “When Shawn and I were little, his dad used to make him solve things all the time. He’d place clues in the back yard or in the kitchen to get Shawn ready for the days when he would be a cop.”  
  
“Thank God that never happened.” Lassiter muttered, which earned him another punch to the shoulder from his partner.  
  
Juliet turned to Gus. “Do you think he would agree to help stage a crime scene?”  
  
“I’m still not sure I like this idea,” Lassiter objected.  
  
“I don’t know if he’d help us out to save Shawn’s reputation,” Gus admitted, reflecting on the older Spencer’s dislike for his son’s psychic charade.  
  
“What if he thought it was just another training project?” Juliet asked.  
  
Gus shrugged. “He might, if you asked nicely enough.”  
  
“So ask,” Lassiter said. “But whatever you do, you better decide soon. We’re going to need some time to get everything ready if we plan to pull this off. Guster, call Spencer and get the scene set up. O’Hara, you’re with me. We’ll pick up our ‘psychic’ and meet up with Guster at the Psych office.”  
  
“What if he says ‘no’?” Gus inquired.  
  
“Then make the scene yourself. We’ll see you at the office in an hour.” Lassiter’s tone left no room for argument. Gus sighed, but agreed to Lassiter’s plan. O’Hara gave him a small wave and ran to catch up to her partner as he strode determinedly towards his car.  
  
“For the record, I still think this is a horrible idea.” Lassiter reminded O’Hara as they buckled themselves in and pulled out of the station’s parking lot.  
><  
  
“Wait, you want me to do what?” McNab’s face screwed up in confusion as he stood in the middle of his living room, appearing quite uncomfortable to be wearing his bathrobe while talking to his superiors.  
  
“McNab, you know I wouldn’t ask you to do this under any other circumstances,” Lassiter told him. “If this were just some small interview, I’d let Spencer take whatever humiliation came from canceling on the reporter. But the chief is counting on this to go smoothly.”  
  
“But no one could mistake me for Shawn; he has such great hair, and I’m so much taller than he is,” the rookie officer pointed out.  
  
“This reporter has never met either of you before,” Juliet informed him. “Just remember you’re Shawn during the interview and you’ll be fine.”  
  
“Besides,” Lassiter said, “it’s your duty to the entire SBPD to make sure this goes off without a hitch. The reputation of a department rests on the shoulders of its officers. If I weren’t so well-known as a head detective, I would be doing this myself.”  
  
McNab hesitated for a moment before nodding. “All right, if it’s only for the one interview I suppose I could. I did take a beginning acting class when I was in college.”  
  
“I know you can do it,” O’Hara smiled at the younger officer.  
  
“Now go get some clothes on,” Lassiter ordered him. “If you have anything ridiculous like those polo shirts Spencer always wears, that’ll make it easier to get into character. You know, brightly-colored offenses to the color palate.”  
  
“Francie loves me in polos,” Buzz muttered as he headed for the bedroom in the back of the apartment.  
  
“Carlton, be nicer to him.” O’Hara whispered at her partner. “He’s doing us a really big favor by agreeing to play Shawn.”  
  
“He wouldn’t be having to play Spencer in the first place if Spencer had taken better care of his immune system.”  
  
O’Hara rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like it’s all Shawn’s fault.”   
  
“Well, it is,” Lassiter snapped at her.  
  
Buzz emerged from bedroom at that moment, decked out in a red polo and blue jeans. He had even mussed up his hair in an effort to be more Shawn-like. Juliet put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile and Lassiter just rolled his eyes again.


	2. Chapter 2

Gus winced as he pressed the call button on his phone.  
  
“Shawn, if you’re using Gus’ phone so that I’ll pick up, don’t think it’ll put me in a better mood than if you’d manned up and used your own phone in the first place.” Henry’s voice came floating out of Gus’ earpiece after the third ring.  
  
“Mr. Spencer, it’s me, Gus.”  
  
“Gus? Why are you calling me? Did something happen to Shawn?” Henry’s voice went from annoyed to serious. The last time Gus had called him, Shawn had been shot and kidnapped.  
  
“Nothing happened to Shawn, other than that he’s at home sick,” Gus assured him. “Lassiter wants me to stage a fake crime scene to train one of the rookie cops, and I was hoping you could help me out with it. I still haven’t figured out the culprit in the muffin robbery when Shawn and I were five.”  
  
Henry laughed. “It was obviously the baker; that’s what the flour dusting all over the counter was from. Where is this crime scene supposed to be?”  
  
Gus gulped. He knew Henry wasn’t going to like the next suggestion.  
  
“We were kind of hoping it could be at your house,” Gus braced himself for the response, which he knew would be negative.  
  
“My house. Are you crazy, Gus? Do you know how long it takes to get fingerprint powder out of fabric? I’ll tell you, weeks - sometimes longer. I’ve still got uniforms with print powder along the collar. What about the Psych office?”  
  
“No, it can’t be a business; it has to be a residential place.” Gus quickly thought up an excuse why it couldn’t be the office. He knew that if they used the office, there would be a lot more explaining to do to the reporters.  
  
“What about your apartment?” Henry suggested.  
  
Gus groaned. His apartment was the one place Shawn hadn’t managed to use in a case yet and now it was going to be invaded by reporters, cops, and worst of all Henry.  
  
“Yeah, I suppose....” Gus trailed off.  
  
“Good, I’ll meet you there this afternoon.”  
  
“It has to be now, Lassiter forgot to tell me about it, and it needs to be ready as soon as possible,” Gus fibbed again. He was so glad this conversation was over the phone and not in person. Henry Spencer could spot a liar from a mile away, which was a good thing when Shawn was his son, but not so great when Gus needed his help.  
  
Henry sighed before speaking again “All right. Fine. I’ll meet you over there in fifteen minutes.”  
  
“Thanks,” Gus acknowledged before the other man ended the call.   
  
Gus didn’t see Henry’s truck when he got back to his apartment, so he decided to go inside and make sure his apartment was somewhat clean before everyone came tramping through. He opened the door and jumped in surprise when he saw Henry sitting at the kitchen counter.  
  
“How did you get in here?” Gus slowly shut the door behind him.  
  
Henry shrugged, “Your hide-a-key. The fake plant was a dead give-away, but at least it wasn’t anything as obvious as a fake rock.”  
  
“So,” Gus cleared his throat. “Are we going to make a crime scene or what?”  
  
“What kind of crime scene does Lassiter want?” Henry started surveying Gus’ apartment. His years as a police detective had trained him to observe every place which he found himself. “We could stage a murder,” he said thoughtfully, still looking around the room.  
  
“No, no murders.” Gus held out his hands. “Lassiter just wants a simple robbery.”  
  
Henry started walking around the room. “A simple B&E, that’s going to be easy enough.” He shoved the neat stack of magazines off Gus’ coffee table.  
  
“What are you doing?” Gus protested as Henry started turning furniture on its side.  
  
Henry looked up from where he was tossing pillows and cushions around the room. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making a crime scene.”   
  
“With my grandparents’ coffee table?”  
  
“Relax, it isn’t like I’m going to throw it across the room. Here, tear this up and start making confetti.” Henry handed Gus several copies of Pharmaceuticals Monthly. “You know what the great thing about magazines at a crime scene is? They’re a good place to look for the owner’s name. It’s on every copy.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I want them all over the floor! I still need these for work!” Gus’ voice was rising in volume and pitch as Henry turned his tidy apartment into a jumbled mess. When a crash came from corner, he looked over worriedly. “What was that?”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Gus. Lightbulbs aren’t that expensive,” Henry assured him, looking up from the lamp he had just deposited on the ground. He brushed his hands off, surveying the room with a critical eye. “I think that should do it. Do you need me around when the training exercise takes place?”  
  
Gus shook his head. “No, I think we’re good. Thanks.”  
  
“Just make sure Lassiter gives you a little bit more warning next time.” Henry grumbled. “Remind Shawn he owes me for this too.” With that Henry headed down to his car. Gus waited until Henry was out of sight and then gathered up every magazine and piece of mail in his apartment. He didn’t need the reporters to see his name all over them. Gus gave a sigh of relief when that was finished and then headed for his own car. He didn’t have very much time to teach McNab how to be Shawn.  
  
He made sure to hide his magazines in the bathroom before leaving, though. There was no way he was going to let the reporters in that particular room.

* * *

“How are you guys going to make me a psychic?” McNab looked around at the front of the Psych office. Gus wasn’t there yet, so the three of them were waiting outside. Lassiter had refused to go in despite the fact that the door was unlocked.   
  
“Well, Gus knows Shawn better than any of us.” Juliet shifted from foot to foot impatiently. “I’m sure he’ll be able to give you some tips.”  
  
“Besides,” Lassiter snapped, “we aren’t taking you to an actual crime scene. Spencer’s father set up a crime scene for you to ‘divine’ clues from.” O’Hara opened her mouth to remind her partner to lay off the sarcasm when talking to the reporters but was interrupted by Gus’s arrival.  
  
She turned to him. “Did you get everything set?”  
  
Gus nodded. “Nothing much; just a simple B&E is what Shawn’s dad called it.”  
  
“Good, now let’s get McNab schooled in how to be an insufferable know-it-all and walk him through the crime scene.” Lassiter followed Gus into the office. “Do you even actually clean this place?” To Lassiter it looked exactly the same as it had when he’d been there during the Chavez case. There were empty take-out containers stacked up near the trash can. Magazines and DVD cases littered the coffee table.   
  
“Trust me, I try,” Gus assured him. “But I don’t live here like some other people.”   
  
“We probably should clean it up a little bit if the reporters are coming over here,” O’Hara decided as she picked her way through the trash and random items.  
  
“Well, if this is how Spencer likes it, we should leave everything alone, besides I’m not going to be Spencer’s housekeeper.” Lassiter said, the disdain evident in his voice as he moved a pizza box in an attempt to find a place to sit.  
  
“I didn’t say we should make it spotless, just so that we can actually move around in here.” Juliet started stacking magazines. “Why do you guys subscribe to Rabbit Fancy?” She held up a magazine with a fluffy white rabbit on the cover.  
  
Gus grabbed it away from her, quickly burying it face-down in another pile. “There’s nothing wrong with two grown men loving bunnies and their soft adorable faces. People say our intense love of bunnies is creepy at our age, but history will prove-”  
  
“That they’re absolutely correct,” Lassiter finished. “Can we focus on what’s important here?”  
  
After five minutes, Juliet was finally satisfied with the level of cleanliness in the office. “All right,” she said, surveying the room with her hands on her hips. “Gus, why don’t you get started on showing McNab a few things?”  
  
Gus nodded and stood in front of McNab. “The first thing Shawn does at a crime scene is try to get a feel for the aura of the room.” Gus knew he would have to be careful explaining Shawn’s process to the cops. They couldn’t know that it was actually an act.  
  
“Right.” McNab nodded. “I’ve seen him do it a few times.” The rookie cop stood up and put his fingers to his temples. “I can sense there’s someone in the room who doesn’t like psychics,” he intoned in a distant-sounding voice.   
  
Lassiter snorted in laughter from where he was perched on the edge of Gus’ desk. “Try to come up with something more creative, McNab.”  
  
“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” McNab said in the same voice. “My name is Shawn Spencer, head psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department.”   
  
Juliet bit back a laugh at the indignant look on Lassiter’s face when McNab talked back to him.  
  
“Right,” Gus nodded in approval at McNab’s performance. “The second thing Shawn does is try to see if the spirits are speaking to him through anything in the room. You remember the cat from the suicide case.”  
  
McNab nodded, “Little Boy Cat, but what if there aren’t any pets in the room?”  
  
“Then he moves on to inanimate objects. Sometimes a photograph on the wall will give him something. It varies from case to case.”  
  
“Like the poster of that missing hiker!” O’Hara chimed in excitedly.  
  
Lassiter rolled his eyes. “The third thing that Spencer does is spastically dance around the room and invade people’s personal space.”  
  
“Carlton, be nice,” Juliet reminded him again.  
  
“I’m just telling the truth. I thought the chief wanted this to be as accurate as possible.”  
  
“If we’re being accurate, I guess we’ll need to tell them about the fact that tap dancing clears your head and the fact that you used to figure skate,” O’Hara returned.  
  
“Hey, this article isn’t about me,” Lassiter protested. “Besides, Spencer wasn’t supposed to tell you about that.” He trailed off and crossed his arms. “Let’s focus on walking through the robbery scene. Guster, what will we be looking at?”   
  
Gus pulled out his cell phone. “We used my apartment. I took some pictures.” He showed them several shots of his apartment’s living room and kitchen.  
  
Lassiter studied the pictures, “The culprit entered through the front door. Probably used a key. Do you have a hide-a-key outside?” He didn’t wait for Gus to answer and continued. “Living room is a disaster, tables turned over, desk ransacked. Did they take anything?”  
  
“This wasn’t actually a robbery.” Juliet pointed out. “There isn’t actually a culprit.”  
  
Lassiter scowled. “I know that.” He cleared his throat. “I’m simply giving McNab observations to use when we get there.” The four of them froze when they heard a knock on the door.  
  
“The reporters,” Gus whispered.  
  
“They’re a little early,” McNab whispered back.  
  
“Why are we whispering?” Juliet whispered.   
  
Lassiter rolled his eyes and went to answer the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see two girls he really didn’t think would even be out of college, let alone work for such a distinguished magazine as Back Up. The one with a camera case slung over her shoulder held out a hand.   
  
“Hello, my name is Catie Emerson. This is Savannah Raymond, and we’re with Back Up magazine. We’re here to speak with Mr. Shawn Spencer.”  
  
Lassiter frowned slightly. With the reputation of the department, he would have thought the magazine would have at least taken the time to send an experienced reporter. The girls in front of him were dressed ... well they were dressed like Spencer. They were wearing jeans, t-shirts with words and silly pictures on them, as well as brightly-colored tennis shoes. Lassiter shook the girl’s hand.  
  
“Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, SBPD.” He motioned for them to follow him inside. While he had been answering the door, O’Hara had managed to clean a little bit more. “That’s my partner, Detective Juliet O’Hara.” The two reporters shook hands with Juliet.  
  
“Nice to meet you both,” she acknowledged.  
  
Buzz stepped forward to shake hands as well. “Hello, my name is Shawn Spencer; this is my associate Burton Guster.” He motioned to Gus.  
  
Gus smiled. “I’m gonna have to hang out with you guys more often,” he muttered.  
  
“Catie Emerson,” the one girl said, shaking hands. She reached up to play with a lock of hair as Gus shook hands with Savannah.  
  
Juliet narrowed her eyes and touched Buzz’s sleeve. Making sure the reporters were distracted by Gus, she whispered in his ear. “The camera girl just got a hair cut; she keeps playing with her hair like she isn’t used to it.”   
  
Buzz nodded in acknowledgement. “Your new hair cut looks nice,” he commented, smiling at Catie. Both girls’ eyes went wide.  
  
“Th-thanks,” Catie stammered. “I’ve read about your psychic powers before, but that was pretty cool.”  
  
Savannah grinned. “Can you do a read off of me?”  
  
Lassiter gave O’Hara a slightly panicked look. The hair had been one thing, but there were no obvious give-aways about the reporter. She shook her head at him and shot Gus a glance to see if he had picked up on anything. From the freaked out look in Gus’ eyes, it didn’t take a psychic to see that he had nothing.  
  
“Well, I just hope you had fun at your reunion last week.” McNab smiled. “USC is a good school.”  
  
Five pairs of eyebrows rose as Savannah nodded, returning the smile. “Why yes, I did! And it is a great school.”  
  
“What kind of article do you plan on writing?” Juliet changed the subject before the girls could ask McNab anymore questions. Savannah shrugged.  
  
“We were just going to ask you some questions, all of you. We want to get a feel for what a day in the life of a police psychic feels like. If there’s a crime scene we could visit, that would be awesome.”  
  
“There’s no way I am letting two more civilians into one of my crime scenes,” Lassiter grumbled.  
  
“Unless it’s something like a robbery,” Juliet gave Lassiter a pointed look.  
  
Savannah wrinkled her nose “Ew. Yeah, no murder scenes or anything.”  
  
Catie nodded in agreement. “Just act natural and do your normal routine at the scene. We’ll snap a few pictures, and it’ll be the best article you guys have ever seen,” she assured them.  
  
“You don’t mind if we ask you a few questions now, do you?” Savannah asked.  
  
“Go right ahead,” Gus replied. He lead the reporter to his desk, and he pulled a chair over for her. Giving Savannah a smile he asked, “Have you heard about Pluto? That’s messed up.”  
  
Lassiter rolled his eyes and snorted, earning himself an admonishing look and a elbow to his ribs from his partner.  
  
“Pluto? Uh, I suppose it is.” Savannah said confusedly as she took a seat. She pulled a small recording device out of her purse set it on the desk. She started with the set of questions she had written in her notebook. “Good afternoon, Mr. Guster.”  
  
“Please, call me Gus.”   
  
“Alright, Gus I’m here from Back Up: New Innovations in a Timeless Profession. I was hoping you could tell me what it’s like to be an assistant to a police psychic.”  
  
Gus chuckled, “Actually, I’m Shawn’s partner. We’ve been friends since we were little. And being his partner is probably not quite what most people would think.”  
  
With a nod, Savannah replied, “It’s not very clear-cut. What does an assist - sorry, partner - do for a psychic investigator?”  
  
“Well, sometimes I’m the only one who can interpret his visions, so I accompany him to most crime scenes. And I keep up with the administrative side of things around here; I’m the organized one,” Gus told her, knowing that girls tended to value organization.  
  
McNab strolled over to Gus’ desk. “I’m just not organized because I don’t have to be with all this psychic-ness inside me. You try being organized when you have to deal with spirits constantly pointing you toward crime scenes and potential murderers.”  
  
As Savannah turned to Buzz, Gus shot him a look of slight disbelief. His tone was even similar to Shawn’s!  
  
“I was looking over your record and it says you’ve solved over fifty cases,” Savannah commented, clearly impressed with Shawn’s track record. “How did you get involved with the police department?”  
  
Lassiter stood up from where he had been sitting on Spencer’s desk. “I think I should answer that question. Before he became a paid consultant by the department, Mr. Spencer would call in leads on cases. We contacted him when we realized he had been consistently right about everything that he was telling us.”  
  
“You left out the part where you tried to arrest him,” Gus put in.  
  
“I didn’t actually get to arrest him,” Lassiter pointed out, glaring at Gus.  
  
“No, but you did bring me in for questioning,” Buzz pointed out. “Don’t let it get you down, though, Lassie. I would have doubted the guy who always solved my cases, too.”  
  
O’Hara had to grab Lassiter’s arm to keep her partner from having to answer the reporter’s questions of why he discharged his weapon into the rookie cop while he was pretending to be a psychic. Lassiter satisfied himself with scowling fiercely at McNab.  
  
“So...” Juliet tried to break the awkward tension in the room as Lassiter continued to glare at McNab.  
  
The ringing of a cell phone cut through the office. It kept ringing until Juliet nudged her partner. Lassiter snapped out of his intense glare and grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket. His face went confused as he looked at the caller ID, but he answered it anyway.  
  
“Carlton Lassiter.” He excused himself and stepped out the door to take the call. Juliet saw Gus tuck his phone back into his pocket; he caught her watching him and gave her a wink.  
  
Savannah didn’t seem perturbed by Lassiter’s sudden exit and just kept moving through her questions. “I guess this brings me to my next question. Are there ever times you and the department don’t see eye to eye?”   
  
McNab chuckled. “There are. Sometimes the spirits are just too far ahead of what mere mortals can comprehend.”  
  
Gus shot him a slightly amused look. McNab’s portrayal of his best friend made Shawn out to be spacier than normal.  
  
Turning to Juliet, Savannah continued. “Does that ever interfere in investigations?”  
  
“It has gotten frustrating once or twice,” Juliet admitted and then weighed the rest of her response carefully, “but we try not to let it get in the way of our work. Generally, we are able to follow up on the clues Shawn gives us.”  
  
Before the reporter could ask any further questions, Lassiter reentered the room. He gave Gus a slightly annoyed look, but McNab interrupted him before he could lecture Gus on what constituted as improper use of a cell phone.  
  
“What was that about, Lassie? Didn’t you tell the department you’d be busy with the reporters all morning?”  
  
Lassiter frowned slightly, then gritting his teeth, he nodded. “Right. I did, but there’s a case that they need us on. There’s been a break-in at an apartment.”  
  
“I’m sure the chief would be more than happy to let Savannah and Catie come with us to the crime scene. Since it is just a burglary,” Juliet pointed out, hoping the whole scenario didn’t seem too convenient to the reporters.  
  
Catie checked her camera and nodded in agreement. “That would be awesome. We would be able to get some pictures of the psychic in action.” Savannah nodded in agreement.   
  
“Perfect,” McNab clapped his hands. “Gus why don’t you ride over to crime scene with Catie and Savannah? I’ll ride with Lassie and Jules and make sure I get my crime scene spirits aligned.” McNab’s smile faltered as he glanced at Gus to see if he was overstepping his boundaries while pretending to be Shawn.  
  
“I think that’s a great idea,” Lassiter forced out. He reached for the collar of McNab’s polo, ended up grabbing the back of it, and half-dragged him towards the door. “We’ll talk about the crime scene.” Juliet started to follow them out.  
  
“Wait, don’t you need to know where the crime scene is?” Catie looked over at Gus.  
  
“Oh, right. Normally I’m with Shawn, so he already knows where to go,” Gus made up, covering their near-mistake.  
  
The girls nodded. “That makes sense,” Catie agreed.   
  
Juliet scribbled Gus’ address on a Post-It and gave it to the three of them. “We’ll see you guys over there.” With that she headed out the door to make sure that Lassiter hadn’t shot McNab.


	3. Chapter 3

Lassiter sped through the streets on his way to Gus’ apartment. “How on earth did you know about USC?” He glanced in the rearview mirror at McNab.  
  
McNab shrugged, “Francie went there. She has a class ring just like that reporter does. There was a reunion last week. I read about it in the alumni newsletter.”  
  
“You read your wife’s alumni newsletters?” Lassiter couldn’t fathom why anyone would do such a thing. He never had when he had been married to Victoria.  
  
The other man shrugged again. “It’s better then her home and garden magazines.” Lassiter grunted in agreement.  
  
“What about the crime scene?” Juliet asked, trying to refocus the conversation.  
  
“Do you want me to name a criminal?” McNab asked.  
  
Juliet thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, too hard to cover. But you could give us some clues as to who the burglar is and how he got in.”  
  
“There aren’t going to be any signs of a break in,” Lassiter reminded him. “You should make a case for the hide-a-key.”  
  
“I know how to analyze a crime scene,” McNab muttered as Lassiter continued to walk him through police procedures.

* * *

In the reporters’ vehicle, Gus was still in jackal mode. Being stuck in a car with these two girls was much more enjoyable than when Shawn had abandoned him with those sorority girls.  
  
Catie turned around in her seat to face him. “Gus, has anyone ever told you that you look like Bud from The Cosby Show?”  
  
“He so does!” Savannah grinned from the driver’s seat. “I thought he reminded me of someone.”  
  
Gus crossed his arms and sat back in his seat. Suddenly, he wished Shawn was there. At this point, his best friend would be attempting to put the attention on himself. Shawn would probably claim to look like Kirk Cameron from Growing Pains or Sean Astin in The Goonies.  
  
Shawn wasn’t there, but Gus was, and he was starting to think this whole thing really would turn out just like that evening at the college. Although, he doubted it would end with him running out to his car screaming like a girl.  
  
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he responded. “But I can assure you, I am not Deon Richmond nor was I on the Cosby Show when I was a kid.”  
  
Savannah laughed. “You seem like you’re a good sport about things. I know it’s probably not always fun tagging along with Shawn, but was this something you were excited about from the beginning?”  
  
“Uh, no. And to be honest, it can sometimes be frustrating even now. But I can definitely say that I wouldn’t go back and say ‘no’ if given the chance.”  
  
“What’s the worst situation you guys have ever gotten into?” Catie was holding the recorder in her hand so Savannah could drive.  
  
“It all depends. There was one time where we solved a murder at our high school reunion; it took me three years to plan, and Shawn ruined it by finding a body there. Another time, I had to dress up like an idiot for a Civil War reenactment, and then there was the time Shawn got shot.”  
  
“I read about that,” Savannah nodded. “From what the online article said, you guys saved Shawn’s life.”  
  
“It was a team effort, and the department had to replace the tires on my company car.” He pointed out the window. “You should take this next left.”  
  
They turned into the parking lot and Savannah found a place near Lassiter’s car. The detectives and McNab were waiting.   
  
“It’s about time,” Lassiter snapped as they headed up to the apartment.  
  
“You couldn’t have been waiting very long,” Gus remarked.  
  
“This must be a pretty new crime scene if there’s no tape up,” Catie observed, taking some pictures of the door to Gus’ apartment.  
  
“We’re the first on the scene,” Juliet explained as Lassiter stepped forward.   
  
He shoved a roll of crime scene tape into her hands. “This was in my trunk. Tape off the scene; we don’t need it getting ruined by the neighbors.”  
  
The door was slightly ajar and Lassiter nudged it the rest of the way open with his foot. He had his gun drawn, and Juliet rolled her eyes slightly as her partner cleared the ‘crime scene’. Once Lassiter had walked through the apartment, he holstered his gun and waved the rest of them in.  
  
Gus, McNab, and the reporters entered the apartment. Juliet followed after taping off the door.   
  
As Lassiter started forward, McNab put an arm out to stop him from walking further into the apartment. “Hang on a second, Lassisota.”  
  
Gus and Juliet both stood ready to tackle Lassiter if he tried to draw his gun again. From the shade of red the head detective’s face was turning, it would not end well for McNab if Lassiter snapped.  
  
“I’m getting the vibe whoever did this had a key. Did the owner say anything about a hide-a-key?” McNab was slowly walking through the living room, carefully stepping over the cushions and pillows strewn around the room.  
  
“Hide-a-keys are very useful tools in the event someone locks themselves out of their apartment,” Gus interjected, defending his fake plant.  
  
“Right you are, my friend, but they are also very useful tools in the event that someone decides to break into said apartment.” McNab held a hand to his temple.   
  
Catie was quick to snap several pictures as he studied the room.  
  
As McNab continued to “read” the scene, he suddenly clenched his eyes shut. The reporters leaned forward slightly in anticipation; Gus and the detectives figuratively crossed their fingers, knowing McNab was about to announce a “revelation”.  
  
“I’m getting something ... I’m getting something ...” McNab trailed off, then he gasped and opened his eyes. “This wasn’t a burglary.”  
  
“It wasn’t?” Lassiter sounded just as annoyed as he usually was when Shawn started “divining” things. “But the place is ransacked!”  
  
“It might be ransacked, Lassie, but the intruders weren’t here to simply steal things. They were looking for something,” he declared.  
  
“Has someone notified the owner?” Gus asked, playing along as if this were a regular crime scene.  
  
Juliet nodded. “Yes. He is out of town today on business; we’ll interview him when he gets back into town and-”  
  
“Gus, what’s going on here?” Henry Spencer’s voice interrupted Juliet’s explanation. Gus and Juliet exchanged a panicked look. They hadn’t expected Henry to show up at the crime scene.   
  
Lassiter took control of the situation and grabbed Gus’ arm, dragging him out to the hallway with Henry. “C’mon psychic; we’ll need you too,” he snapped at McNab. If Henry was surprised by Lassiter referring to McNab as a psychic, he didn’t let it show. Gus avoided making eye contact with Henry when they got out to the hallway.  
  
“What in the world is going on here? This is just supposed to be a training exercise. Were those reporters?” Henry didn’t look happy at all.  
  
Gus spoke up first. “Buzzpretendedtobeshawnforsomereportersandweneededtousemyapartment,” he babbled out.  
  
“Try it again, but slower.” Henry crossed his arms.  
  
“McNab is pretending to be Shawn for some reporters, and we’re using the fake crime scene for the interview.” Wincing internally, Gus prepared himself for Henry’s reaction.  
  
Henry arched an eyebrow. “Who thought this was a good idea?”  
  
“For the record I thought it was a horrible idea.” Lassiter raised his hand.  
  
McNab who had stayed silent through the entire conversation spoke up now. “The department really needs this interview to go well.”  
  
“Why didn’t anyone ask me about this?”  
  
“It’s your day off, part-time consultant overseer,” McNab supplied. Gus half smiled when he realized McNab was still trying to be Shawn-like. Henry glared at McNab.  
  
Gus recognized the look on Henry’s face. It was the look that Henry had given Shawn the morning after he arrested him for stealing a car their senior year. It was a look that meant Henry was about to give a lecture, which would last for the better part of three hours. Bathroom breaks not included.  
  
“Zip it, McNab,” Lassiter ordered. “This childish act you have going on is fine when you’re pretending to be Spencer, but at this moment you’re a real cop and we expect you to act like one.”  
  
Henry threw his hands in the air. “You know what, you three can have fun in your fake crime scene with your fake clues and your fake psychic. I’ve got a fish to catch.” With that he stomped his way down the stairs and out of sight.  
  
Lassiter gave Gus and McNab an ‘I told you so’ look and headed back in the apartment.   
  
Juliet was talking with reporters. “After we secure the crime scene we contact the home owner and they do an inventory of the-” She paused as the three men came back in the room.  
  
“Who was that?” Savannah asked, looking for Henry. “He seemed to know you guys.”  
  
“That was Henry Spencer, a coordinator for the police department. He helps us balance the consultant side with the actual police side.” Lassiter forced a smile when explaining to the reporters. They both nodded and Savannah jotted down some notes.  
  
“He’s also my father,” McNab continued. “A retired veteran of the SBPD.”  
  
“So, you must take after your mother?” Catie looked him up and down, trying to justify the obvious difference in height between ‘Shawn’ and Henry.  
  
“I’m adopted,” McNab made up.   
  
“That explains so much,” Lassiter mumbled. For the second time that day his cell phone went off. He pulled out the phone to silence it while glaring at Gus. When he looked at the caller ID, he pressed the talk button instead. “Carlton Lassiter.” He gave his usual gruff greeting and headed out to the hallway.  
  
Juliet gave Gus a worried look. She could hear Lassiter complaining out in the hallway.  
  
“Well, make Dobson do it.” Lassiter’s voice carried through the open door. “What do you mean he’s already on a case?”  
  
Juliet gave the reporters an awkward smile as Lassiter came back into the room. “Trouble at the station, Carlton?”   
  
“The fire department was called to a house fire earlier this morning. After the smoke cleared, there is concern that it could be arson, and they want us on the scene.”  
  
Catie raised an eyebrow. “Does this happen often? I mean, you guys are assigned to this case right?”  
  
“No need,” McNab spoke up, putting his hand to his temple. “I’ve already got enough to put us on the trail of whoever did this.”  
  
“This is a simple B&E, a child could solve this.” Lassiter snapped without meaning to. This was the worst thing that could happen. The crime rate had been slow lately, and Lassiter hadn’t expected to be called in on a case today. He had ditched his therapy appointment because he thought it was a waste of department resources. “We’ll put some of the rookies on it and then head over to the fire.”  
  
“Are you going to ride with us again?” Catie asked Gus.   
  
Gus could see the hope in her and Savannah’s eyes and it took all of his will power to shake his head no. “For a robbery Shawn can acclimate himself, but for something like an arson I will need to help him achieve a higher mental state.” Gus could practically hear Lassiter’s eyes rolling upward behind him.  
  
“The fire department is waiting for us. We need to leave now.” Lassiter headed for the door.  
  
Everyone shuffled down the stairs and out to their cars. The two reporters waved cheerfully to them as they waited to follow Lassiter to the new scene.  
  
Lassiter hated cheerful people, especially cheerful girls who looked like they should be in college and smiled at fake psychics.  
  
“So that went well,” McNab broke the silence as Lassiter turned out of the parking lot.  
  
“Went well? Are you kidding me McNab?” Lassiter launched into a lecture that would have made Henry Spencer proud. “You had a complete disregard for police procedure, not to mention you insulted a superior officer.”  
  
Juliet shushed her partner. “Carlton, we’ll deal with this later. Right now we need to figure out how Buzz is going to be a psychic at a crime scene where we don’t know what is going to happen. Gus, can you try calling Shawn, maybe he’ll have some kind of vision about the fire.”  
  
Gus pulled out his cell phone and dialed his friend’s number. It took several rings before a very sleepy-sounding Shawn Spencer answered his phone.  
  
“H’lo?” Shawn’s words were a little sloppy. “Gus?”  
  
“Shawn, we have a problem.”  
  
“I do too, buddy; I was napping and some jerk called me and woke me up.”  
  
Gus could hear Shawn’s voice go from sleepy to irritated. If he wasn’t careful, Shawn would just hang up and not answer his phone again. “Sorry, Shawn. Look, we got called to a real crime scene, and you know Buzz isn’t really going to be able to ... divine any clues.”  
  
Shawn coughed before continuing. “Oh. Well, I guess Lassifrass is going to have to be an actual detective today, isn’t he?”  
  
Gus glanced up to make sure Lassiter hadn’t heard yet another mutilation of his name. The man had hearing like a bat. Thankfully the man was still focused on the road. “Shawn this is serious,”  
  
Shawn yawned and then coughed again. “Let me see what’s on the news. I know you Tivo the twelve o’clock news on channel nine because of the cute weather girl.”  
  
“Shawn ...”  
  
“See, you didn’t deny it.”  
  
“Shawn, just call me back if you get anything,” Gus finished and hung up the phone.  
  
“Guster, make sure Spencer knows that the next time he calls me Lassifrass I will shoot his knee cap,” Lassiter threatened.  
  
“Hearing like a bat,” Gus muttered. Lassiter glared into the rearview mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

They arrived at the scene of the fire. The only thing left of what had once been a large two-story house were two exterior walls and a large heap of ash. There was one fire truck still at the scene, and three firefighters were talking to a reporter from Channel Nine.   
  
Lassiter put on his sunglasses. “You four stay here.” He pointed to the reporters, Gus and McNab. Quickly walking over to the firefighters, Lassiter looked around for any other uniformed officers. If one of the other cops recognized McNab, their charade was done for.  
  
Thankfully, it was just like dispatch had said on the phone and there was no one else on the case.  
  
The reporter from Channel Nine hurried over to Lassiter and O’Hara when she recognized them as police. “Detectives! What does you being brought on the scene mean? Is this more then an accidental fire?”   
  
Lassiter scowled at the blond haired reporter. She had been on the beach the day Spencer had gotten him dubbed ‘Detective Dipstick’.   
  
“We are not at liberty to discuss details of the fire right now.” O’Hara came to her partner’s rescue. She grabbed Lassiter’s arm and pulled him in the direction of the remains of the house.  
  
Gus watched as the Lassiter and O’Hara evaded the girl from Channel Nine. He tugged on McNab’s sleeve. “Now’s the time when Shawn and I usually head into the crime scene,” he whispered to the rookie cop.  
  
McNab gave Gus a worried look. “We can’t go in there yet,” he whispered back. “Detective Lassiter told us to wait here.”   
  
Gus punched McNab in the arm. “Now is not the time to be nice to Lassiter. Now is the time to be Shawn.” He glanced back and gave the reporters a smile.  
  
Catie gave him a smile, waving from where she and Savannah were waiting by their vehicle. Gus hesitantly waved back. “This should be good.” Catie told Savannah. “Robberies are interesting, but fires make better pictures.” She pulled out her camera and started snapping pictures of the empty shell that had been a house just twelve hours before.  
  
“The house was fully engulfed when we got here,” the fireman was telling Lassiter and O’Hara as Gus and McNab snuck up behind them. “We extinguished the blaze, and that’s when we found this.” He showed the detectives an area of the kitchen where McNab could see a clear point of origin. Scattered around the area were charred bottles and half burned towels.  
  
Gus quickly held out his cell phone and snapped a picture. Lassiter whipped around to see what the noise was and Gus had to pretend to be stretching to avoid being caught. Once the detective was looking the other way, Gus sent the picture to Shawn. He felt bad about hiding things from Lassiter, but the detectives couldn’t know that Shawn needed a visual to “divine” a clue  
  
A few moments later, Juliet’s phone rang. She retrieved it from her pocket and a look of relief passed over her face after a glancing at the display screen. “Shawn, what do you have?”  
  
“I’m getting a vibe about the scene you’re investigating,” he told her.  
  
Juliet could hear the hoarseness of his voice, and she realized Gus had been telling the truth when he said Shawn was super sick. “Really, already? That’s great.”  
  
“Yeah, well, the spirits must feel sorry for me being sick,” he joked. “It’s not easy, being confined to the indoors when you’re out there, fighting crime, hair blowing in the breeze and smelling-”  
  
She cut him off. “Shawn, what did you call to tell me?”  
  
“It was horrible, Jules! The heat, the pain ... it’s horrible, the flames.”  
  
“Pain?” Juliet asked, slightly concerned until he mentioned flames. “Shawn, is this like the last arson investigation? Because if you tell me the culprit is Senor Pantalones del Fuego I am hanging up this phone.” She glanced over to where Lassiter was still talking through the scene with the firemen.  
  
McNab and Gus had joined them, as well as the two reporters. Catie was busily snapping pictures, while Savannah was furiously taking notes on everything that was going on.  
  
Shawn’s voice came through the phone again. “You shouldn’t mock the spirits, Jules.” He coughed. “But no, I’m not sensing an arsnurderer.... marsonist.... murderer slash arsonist this time around. The home owners are on vacation; they’ve been gone for the past three or four days.”  
  
“O’Hara!” Lassiter had put on some latex gloves and was sifting through some of the rubble. “I hope that isn’t a personal call because you’ll need to cut it short.”  
  
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Shawn, Lassiter’s itching to close this case as soon as possible, just let me know if you get anything else.” With that she closed her phone and joined the others.  
  
“Pressing call?” Lassiter asked sarcastically,  
  
“My sick cousin who loves 80’s trivia.” Juliet gave Lassiter a meaningful look.  
  
Gus could hear Shawn’s voice in his head, objecting that he was more than a cousin to Juliet.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Lassiter turned back to his task. Gus spoke up then. “Maybe you guys should get some pictures of Detective Lassiter doing traditional police work? That way you can compare them to Shawn’s new innovations.”  
  
“I heard that,” Lassiter growled under his breath.  
  
Catie and Savannah gave Lassiter unsure smiles but did what Gus had suggested. When the two girls had stepped away, Juliet turned to McNab.  
  
“Shawn just called. He said this was an arson and that the owners have been out of town for the past few days, which checks out with the statements the neighbors gave,” she whispered to him.   
  
“I knew it was an arson,” McNab started to point out, but the look on Juliet’s face made him stop and let her continue.  
  
“What is the motive behind the fire? Did Shawn say anything about that?” Gus wanted to know.  
  
Juliet shook her head, “Lassiter cut me off before I could ask him that.”  
  
“I’m sure he’ll call one of us when he gets another vision,” McNab assured her.  
  
As if McNab really were psychic, Gus’ phone began to ring.  
  
“Dude, Juliet hung up on me!” Shawn’s complaining voice filled Gus’ ears as he answered his phone. Gus wandered to the edge of the crime scene to avoid the bat-like hearing of Lassiter and the pressuring questions of O’Hara.  
  
“Worry about your feelings later,” Gus snapped. “We need to solve this case quickly.”  
  
“Such impatience,” Shawn chided. “Fine. Whatever. I think the arsonist didn’t do it on purpose ... Dude, does that still make them an arsonist?” he asked confusedly. “By the way you never told me about the reporters; are they cute? Did you hit the jackal switch without me?“  
  
“Focus, Shawn, this is really important,” Gus reiterated. His eyes went wide as he saw Catie and Savannah heading for him. “The keys are in the bottom drawer, and you’ll need to feed her twice a day.”  
  
“The keys?” Shawn’s voice was even more confused than before. “Dude, what are you talking about?”  
  
“And Mrs. Pickles is really picky, so be sure she eats at least two good meals,” Gus continued.  
  
“Oh! I get it ...” Shawn coughed again, then continued. “The reporters are there, aren’t they?”  
  
“Of course.” Gus shot a glance in their direction. They smiled politely, waiting for him to finish his call. He moved the phone away from his mouth. “Sorry about this; it’s my cat, Mrs. Pickles, she’s having kittens today.”  
  
“Dude! That’s my line I was saving for the next time I needed to pull you out of work!” Shawn complained through the phone.  
  
“How many kittens have you seen so far?” Gus went back to talking to Shawn. He was hoping Shawn would know that by kittens Gus meant clues.  
  
There was a reason Shawn was Gus’ best friend, and as if he actually were reading Gus’ thoughts, Shawn caught the hint. “Okay, I rewatched the news footage after I saw that picture you sent. There’s a family that lives nearby with a couple of teenagers. They seemed really fidgety in the footage, and all the bottles around the point of origin were from different alcohols. You know what teens and alcohol means. They were probably partying it up.”  
  
“I knew I smelled tobacco!” Gus shouted into the phone, startling the reporters. “I think my vet smoked in my house,” he covered before turning so his back was to them. “Shawn,” he whispered furiously into his phone, “do you think that has something to do with the case?”  
  
“Of course it does. Why else would all the teens getting interviewed seem that nervous? I’m thinking ...” Shawn trailed off.  
  
“Just hurry up,” Gus demanded, shaking his own head. “We need to get working on the case.”  
  
“Gus, this whole time my phone has been on speaker, and I just realized that my hands are on my temples.” Shawn sounded a little distraught. “What is in this cold medicine?”  
  
“It’s just children’s Tylenol,” Gus reminded him and then hung up the phone. The reporters were waiting for him as soon as he turned back around.  
  
Catie smiled. “You have a cat?”  
  
“More than one now.” Gus motioned for them to follow him back to where Lassiter and O’Hara were watching McNab walk through the crime scene. McNab’s hands were outstretched, and to Gus he looked like a caricature of Frankenstein's monster.  
  
“You know this reminds me of that fire three weeks ago,” Lassiter slowly said. Gus knew the head detective was about to spout off a ridiculous theory. “Then there was that fire at the mini-mart.”  
  
“What do those fires have to do with anything?” O’Hara didn’t see where partner was going with this.  
  
“We may be facing a serial arsonist,” Lassiter stated grimly.  
  
“I do like Count Chocula,” McNab added. Lassiter scowled at the remark.  
  
Before McNab could say anything further, Gus pulled him to the side. Lassiter was still going through the details of his theory, and Catie and Savannah were watching him with the same fascination people had with car crashes.   
  
Satisfied they weren’t paying attention to him. Gus got Buzz up to speed on the case. “Buzz, Shawn told me who did this. It was the neighbor family’s teens. There are liquor bottles at the point of origin.”  
  
“How did Shawn see the point of origin?” McNab looked puzzled.  
  
“Visions.” Gus tapped his own temple then continued. “He read the guilt off their TV presence. They must have had to leave in a hurry and didn’t take the time to completely extinguish their cigarettes before leaving.”  
  
McNab nodded. “Just some kids playing around. That makes sense.”  
  
Gus pushed McNab back towards the group. “C’mon, now’s the time when Shawn has a vision.”   
  
McNab took a deep breath before shouting out, “Teenage hooligans!” The detectives and reporters both turned to stare at him. He also attracted the attention of the news crew and neighbors on the other side of the crime scene tape; thankfully the firemen had left after handing over control of the scene to the police. McNab’s face went three shades of red as he realized that he had an audience.  
  
He glanced at Gus, who gave him a look of encouragement. Swallowing, he proceeded. “General Mills is not to blame in this fire. Lucky Charms are good for a party, but alcohol and tobacco products are not.”  
  
“M- Spencer,” Lassiter caught himself. “What do you mean party?”  
  
“Just because you were in the crossing guard club in high school doesn’t mean that you should be uneducated about parties,” McNab said seriously. “They’re places where people go to have fun and spend some time with friends.”  
  
“I know what a party is.” Lassiter looked furious at McNab’s flippant tone when talking about a superior officer. He didn’t care if the rookie cop was playing a role. “What does that have to do with the scene?”  
  
Pressing his hands to his temples, McNab squinted his eyes and surveyed the remains of the room. “I’m getting the feeling that something big was happening here - not the plot of an arsonist, but the accidental fire-starting power of a scared teenager.”  
  
The dots connected in O’Hara’s head and she spoke up. “There were a bunch of teenagers behind the crime tape when we got here.”  
  
“Their neighbors were gone, and they figured they had the perfect place to do everything they couldn’t at home.” McNab explained. He knew he wasn’t being as flashy or dramatic as Shawn, but he couldn’t bring himself to body-slam Detective Lassiter. The detective had been restrained for the most part, but McNab knew if he ended up in Lassiter’s lap, he would also find himself in the hospital from a gunshot wound.  
  
“And so they snuck over here?” Gus asked, trying to act like he normally did when Shawn was having a ‘vision’.  
  
“Yes!” McNab strode over to the point of origin and flung a hand to point at the charred remains of the festivities. He paused, momentarily blinded by the camera flash as Catie snapped several pictures. “But someone was coming and they couldn’t be caught trespassing, so they hid the smoking, incriminating evidence and left.”  
  
“Not realizing that alcohol is the perfect accelerant for a blaze,” Gus put in.  
  
“Exactly,” McNab agreed with him. “Cigarettes are hard to extinguish completely, especially when you’re scared and running away, hoping you don’t get grounded for the rest of your life.”  
  
“So, this had nothing to do with the other fires?” Lassiter wasn’t happy with his theory being shot down so fast.  
  
“Or arson at all?” Savannah asked. Lassiter glared in her direction.  
  
McNab shook his head. “Sadly, those are both exciting solutions, but they are both also wrong. All we have is a case of teenage shenanigans.”  
  
“If you want to see some actual police work,” Lassiter addressed the reporters. “you can follow me when I question the parents.”  
  
“Why not the teens themselves?” Savannah wanted to know.  
  
McNab threw an arm around Lassiter’s shoulders. “Because Detective Lassiter has suppressed childhood issues with teenagers. Come to think of it, suppressed adult issues as well.”  
  
Lassiter quickly ducked underneath McNab’s arm, gave the taller man a threatening glare, and stalked off to the crime scene tape. Catie and Savannah followed on his heels.  
  
The group gathered near the tape perked up as they noticed the head detective’s purposeful strides toward them. The reporter from Channel Nine began calling questions to him as soon as he came within a few yards.  
  
“Detective, what did you find? Are you planning to charge someone with arson? Was this a crime of revenge or an accident?”  
  
Brushing her off, Lassiter turned to the couple he had seen with the teenagers when they first arrived. “Excuse me; I’m going to need to talk with you two privately.”  
  
Their eyes widened slightly, and they shot nervous glances at the other neighbors.  
  
“What’s wrong?” the husband asked. “You don’t think we had anything to do with this, do you?”  
  
“I really can’t say right now,” Lassiter replied. He glanced at the channel nine reporter, who was nearly salivating over the possibility of a juicy scoop, then turned back to the couple. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”  
  
“Um, well, our house is right next door,” the woman told him, gesturing towards their home.  
  
Lassiter turned to see a curtain falling back into place. “That will be fine,” he acknowledged. If he were lucky, he could nail the kids when they walked in.  
  
Juliet had been right behind him as he cornered the parents. Now she was explaining to the reporters that since this was an interview they would need to stay outside.   
  
Lassiter looked around the entryway of the house. Lining the wall were family pictures and a whole series of those awful looking school photographs, ranging from what looked like first grade through tenth. It was the same kid in all the pictures, and Lassiter caught a glimpse of him as he poked his head around the doorway that led back to the kitchen.  
  
“Is this about what happened at the Michaels’ house?” the mother spoke up.  
  
“Yes ma’am; we believe that the blaze was caused by some teenagers who broke into the house.” Lassiter tried to be polite, but he really wanted to lecture this woman on keeping a better eye on her child.  
  
“Teenagers?” This time it was the father who spoke. “You think Robbie had something to do with this?” He was indignant.  
  
“We just want to speak to your son.” O’Hara tried to appease them.   
  
“Robbie? Get out here, young man.”  
  
Lassiter inwardly winced as the mother called her son. He’d been on the receiving end of that tone of voice a lot when he was younger.A kid in a blue polo shirt shuffled out of the kitchen. Lassiter could tell he was nervous about something.  
  
“Robbie, tell the officers where you were last night. You told us you were at the Simons’.”   
  
Robbie gave his mother a slightly panicked look. “I w-w-was at the Simons’.”  
  
Lassiter took a step forward and used his height to his advantage. He towered over the kid by a good three or four inches. “Listen kid, tell us what you know and we’ll see about going easy on you. I can’t make promises, but if you learn your lesson you might get to go to college before you turn thirty.” The kid looked terrified and Lassiter took great satisfaction in that. He opened his mouth to make another threat against the kid, when his cell phone rang. He wanted to ignore it, but Spencer’s name on the caller ID made him pause.   
  
He excused himself for a second and went across the room to take the call. “Yes Spencer?”   
  
“Lassie! I missed your grumbly voice, so I thought I’d call you with the next clue. I had this vision while I was trying to find more tissues.”  
  
“Spencer, I don’t care if you had it while you were jumping off the top of the Eiffel Tower, tell me now or I hang up this phone.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to bungee jump off of international icons. But, anyway, I grabbed this new box of Kleenex and it had snowmen on it. I know you’re asking who has snowmen on their Kleenex boxes in August, but one of the snowmen was wearing this red scarf and then I had this intense vision of a kid in red shirt. Red shirt and black hair, like Scotty in the original Star Trek.”  
  
Lassiter pinched the bridge of his nose as Shawn rambled on and on. “Spencer ...” he warned, his patience growing thin.  
  
“I know, I know you want to get back to terrifying small children with your policeman skills so just ask this kid about a kid in a red shirt.” With that Shawn hung up the phone.  
  
Sighing in frustration, Lassiter turned back to rejoin the others. Juliet looked up from where she had been speaking to the family, rolling her eyes like she did every time Lassiter got carried away during an investigation.  
  
“We aren’t accusing you of anything,” She turned back to family and reassured them. “We just want to get to the bottom of this.”  
  
“What do you know about a kid in a red shirt with black hair?” Lassiter asked seemingly out of the blue.  
  
Robbie did a double take. “Kurt was wearing a red shirt this morning.”   
  
His mother nodded in agreement. “Kurt lives down the street. I haven’t let Robbie play with him since high school started. Kurt got involved with the wrong crowd.”  
  
O’Hara grabbed Lassiter’s arm and dragged him towards the door. “I am so sorry for taking up your time and I’m sure Detective Lassiter would like to extend his own apology to your son.” She shoved her elbow into Lassiter’s ribs.  
  
“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat. “I apologize for thinking you were an arsonist.” At a second nudge from his partner, he continued, pointing his finger at Robbie. “Just remember to say ‘no’ to drugs, or I will be back for you.”  
  
O’Hara apologized again and then made a quick exit. Gus, McNab and the reporters were waiting for them at the end of the driveway.  
  
“Why didn’t you make an arrest?” Savannah asked as Catie snapped a few pictures of the detectives.  
  
“Spencer gave us a tip about a different kid. One that the kid at this house confirmed,” Lassiter explained, forgetting completely that the reporters had been standing with ‘Spencer’ the entire time.  
  
“Shawn never called you,” Catie observed confusedly.   
  
Lassiter ignored her and headed for the crime scene tape where he could clearly see a teenager in a red shirt hovering near the news crew. He should have known that morbid curiosity would keep the real perp near the scene. Lassiter reminded himself to point out to Spencer that he had been wrong; this kid looked nothing like Scotty from Star Trek.  
  
“Detective Lassiter.” The reporter from Channel Nine was in his face as soon as he got with in reach of the microphone. “What can you tell us about the people you questioned?”  
  
Lassiter pushed past her. “Kurt!” He yelled at the red shirted kid when he was a few feet away.  
  
Kurt’s eyes went wide and he bolted. He almost knocked over the news reporter as he ducked under the crime scene tape and sprinted across the yard towards the alley that ran behind the houses.  
  
Lassiter gave chase, narrowly missing a garbage can as he turned the corner into the alley. He didn’t see the kid anywhere. The rattle of a chain link fence caught his attention, and he turned his head just in time to see a flash of red disappear into one of the adjoining yards. Cutting through a non-fenced in yard, Lassiter reached the front of the house just in time to see McNab grab the kid’s collar.  
  
“I would’ve caught him,” Lassiter wheezed out as he bent forward, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.  
  
McNab looked at him doubtfully as Catie and Savannah ran up, followed by Gus and Juliet.   
  
“That was awesome, Shawn!” Catie was looking through her camera display. “I think this one should go in the article,” she said, showing the group a picture of McNab leaping over a flowerbed to catch up with Kurt.  
  
“Kurt, we know you snuck into the Michaels’ house.” Juliet brought the attention back to the case. Judging from the rate his face paled, she knew they had nailed it.  
  
“You can’t prove anything,” Kurt tried to argue.  
  
“We can get DNA and fingerprints off of the bottles and cigarettes,” Lassiter snapped. “O’Hara, take him to the car.” Lassiter had caught his breath by that point but was clutching the stitch in his side. “I’ll go get his parents.”


	5. Chapter 5

Back at the station, Lassiter and O’Hara were questioning Kurt and his parents in one of the interrogation rooms. Savannah and Catie were following up the case with a few more questions for McNab and Gus in one of the conference rooms; Lassiter had put them there to make sure no one would see McNab hanging around with Gus. The last thing they needed was for someone to start asking questions.  
  
“Is this a typical day for you two?” Savannah asked. “I can’t imagine being thrown from one case to another.”  
  
“Typically it takes us a couple days to solve a case. The police rarely call us in on robberies and fires. This was an exception since you were here.” Gus gave them both a smile. “We usually only get called when it’s a murder.”  
  
“I must say it was interesting to see which information you divined from the crime scene and which evidence the detectives were able to get from that. Is each crime scene similar?”  
  
“Each crime scene has its own level of psychic tells,” Buzz started to explain. He had gotten so comfortable being in the character of Shawn that he was sitting with his feet propped up on the table.  
  
Lassiter poked his head through the conference room door. “Get your feet off the table,” he snapped. “C’mon, I need you two to sign your statements so you can get paid for this.” He motioned for McNab and Gus to follow him.  
  
“We’ll be right back.” Gus assured the reporters.  
  
Once they had left, Savannah started organizing her notes on the story. “This is going to make a great article. It’ll be a lot more interesting then I thought it would be when we got assigned this interview.”  
  
“Yeah,” Catie replied distractedly. “It’s just weird...” She trailed off and regained her thoughts. “Sometimes it feels like Shawn is putting on an act. I mean no one is that spastic, right?”  
  
Savannah nodded in agreement. A cell phone rang and Catie noticed Gus’ phone on the table where he had been sitting.  
  
“Should we answer it?” She reached for the phone. “Weird, it says Shawn Spencer is calling.”   
  
“Answer it,” Savannah encouraged her.  
  
“Hello Shawn,” Catie greeted the psychic. She put the phone on speaker and set it on the table.  
  
“Gus?” Shawn’s confused voice came over the phone. “Gus, did you forget your phone on the counter at Starbucks again? You know that people just use it to prank call your friends.”  
  
“Shawn?” Savannah sounded just as confused as Shawn did. “Aren’t you supposed to be signing your statement with Gus?”  
  
There was silence on the line as Shawn tried to figure out what was going on. “Of course I am.” He forced a laugh. “I realized Gus forgot his phone so I called it.”  
  
Catie gave Savannah a doubtful look, and they both went to the door and looked out towards the main part of the station. Lassiter was standing with Gus and McNab near the front desk, and none of them were using a phone.  
  
“You’re up front with Gus and Lassiter?” Savannah asked the Shawn on the phone.  
  
“Yeah, you know, signing papers and stuff for the case.”  
  
“Uh, okay,” Catie responded. She grabbed the phone and carried it with her as she motioned for Savannah to follow her. They walked closer to the front desk. “So, I’m sure you liked the brown shirt I was wearing today,” she commented into the phone.  
  
“Oh yeah, the brown was awesome; it really brought out your eyes,” Shawn agreed.  
  
Savannah raised an eyebrow as she looked down at Catie’s yellow t-shirt.  
  
“Hey guys!” McNab greeted them as they got to the front desk. “What’s up?”  
  
“Oh, nothing much; just talking with Shawn Spencer on the phone.” Catie put the phone down on the desk. She crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at the three men.  
  
Gus’ face fell when he saw the picture ID on the phone; the pineapple image on the caller id showing that it was indeed Shawn.  
  
“Gus?” Shawn’s voice floated over the speaker. “Gus, what is going on?”  
  
Juliet came over from filing paperwork for the case. “Was that Shawn?” she asked, momentarily forgetting their charade.  
  
“Seriously, someone needs to tell me what is going on.” Shawn sounded almost angry now.  
  
“We’ll get back to you,” Lassiter said as he pushed the end call button.   
  
Gus snatched up his phone and braved a glance at the reporters. Neither of them looked very happy.   
  
“Does the department employ two psychics named Shawn Spencer?” Savannah was trying to keep her voice calm.  
  
“Of course not; one Spencer is enough,” Lassiter replied.  
  
“So ... if that was Shawn ...” Catie began. She turned and gave McNab a slightly suspicious look. “Does someone mind telling us what’s going on?”  
  
McNab’s face was bright red, and he was studying the laces on his shoes as if they would save him from embarrassment. “My name is Buzz McNab, and I’m an officer here with the department,” he mumbled, not looking away from his feet.  
  
“Why isn’t Shawn here?” Savannah wanted to know. “And why were you impersonating him?”  
  
“He couldn’t make the interview, and we knew it was important to the department and to Back Up,” Gus explained.  
  
Catie still didn’t sound impressed. “So, you guys got a fake psychic?”  
  
“All the visions and psychic clues were from Shawn. He called us about all of them,” Gus pointed out.   
  
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Lassiter mumbled in O’Hara’s ear.  
  
Juliet glared at her partner and continued with the explanation. “If it makes you feel better, it was Shawn’s idea. He really did want to be here.”  
  
“I don’t know if makes us feel better,” Catie was clearly still annoyed, “since you lied to us about the whole thing.”   
  
“Where is the real Shawn now?” Savannah wanted to know.  
  
“He’s at home sick,” Gus admitted. “He caught a cold yesterday.”  
  
Savannah crossed her arms. “And you thought this was the best way to handle things? Why not just call and let us know?”  
  
“You guys would’ve just thought he was a fake,” Gus used the same argument he’d given Shawn earlier that day.  
  
“No we wouldn’t ...” Catie was perplexed. “We travel around interviewing weird and unusual law enforcement people all the time. We would have understood.”  
  
“Shawn just has a cold?” Savannah changed the subject when she realized everyone else looked completely chastised about the situation. Gus looked up at her and nodded. “Well, I got my flu shot for this year,” she continued, “so I say we brave it. We’ll go interview him.”

* * *

Shawn sat on his couch waiting for his phone to ring. Every time he tried calling Lassiter, Juliet or Gus, they always ignored the call and sent it straight to voice mail. His trashcan was overflowing with Kleenex, and there were dozens of wrappers littered around him from his cough drops.  
  
As the door opened, Shawn looked to see who it was. Living in an old dry cleaners had its perks, but it also had the downside of people wandering in thinking it still was a dry cleaners. “Hello?” he called out before coughing. “Sorry, we’re not open anymore.” Gus came around the corner, followed by McNab. “Oh, hey buddy, thanks for not answering my calls.”  
  
“Shawn, we had a lot of explaining to do,” Gus brushed the complaint off.  
  
“Why’d you bring Buzz?” Shawn narrowed his eyes. “Did you bring him over here to break up with me as best friends? I knew it! I get sick, and you go out and replace me. Well, good luck with your new friend and his not amazing hair.”  
  
“No, no.” McNab held out his hands defensively. “I would never get between the two of you. We just had to bring the reporters over here, and we wanted to make sure you were okay with that.”  
  
“You brought the reporters?” Shawn turned to Gus. “You weren’t actually supposed to tell them McNab wasn’t me, you know.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to tell them, but someone called my phone and talked to them and they figured it out on their own,” Gus retorted, crossing his arms and giving his friend a stern look.  
  
“Well I’m sorry you can’t remember to put your phone in your pocket or at least password protect it.” Shawn coughed and reached for another tissue.  
  
McNab had been waiting patiently for them to finish bickering about who was to blame for the charade collapsing but finally spoke up. “So, I’ll go tell Lassiter that he can bring them in here.” He made a quick exit as Shawn turned to Gus with the most offended look he could muster.  
  
“Dude, you brought Lassie, too?” Shawn complained. “You know he’s only going to make fun of the place. You didn’t let Jules come too, did you?”  
  
“Juliet’s already been here. Unless that children’s medicine is now making you forget the time you got shot.”   
  
“No, I remember that really well, seeing as how I wasn’t here, buddy. I was in the trunk of a car with a hole in my shoulder. And you never told me you brought her here!” It was now Shawn’s turn to cross his arms.  
  
“Spencer, this place is a sty,” Lassiter ended the conversation for them as he came in followed by Juliet and the reporters. “Although, I’m not surprised after seeing your office.” He eyed the piles of takeout boxes and the stack of DVDs around the TV.  
  
Shawn gave Gus an ‘I told you so’ look before turning his attention back to Lassiter. “At least mine has style, Lassie. Compared to yours, which, you know, has absolutely none.”  
  
Lassiter glared at Shawn, but didn’t have time to get a come back in before Juliet took control.  
  
“Shawn, this is Catie and Savannah. They’re reporters with Back Up.” She motioned to the reporters.   
  
Shawn gave them a smile, but it didn’t last long when he saw that irritated look in their eyes.  
  
“So you’re Shawn Spencer?” Savannah asked.  
  
“The real Shawn Spencer,” Catie added, just to make sure.  
  
“Guilty as charged.”  
  
Catie looked around the room. “At least you’re really sick,” she commented as she eyed the multiple boxes of Kleenex stacked around Shawn.  
  
Shawn managed to look offended. “I’d rather not be, as a matter of fact.”  
  
Savannah pulled out her recorder. “Do you want to change clothes, since we’re going to take some pictures?”  
  
Shawn looked down at his plaid lounge pants and green Apple Jacks t-shirt. “Yeah, I think I might.”  
  
“I think you should,” Lassiter put in. Everyone in the room turned to look at him. He shrugged. “What? I want the article to look good, or at least coordinated.”  
  
Shawn shrugged in agreement. He shifted and tried to get out from under all the stuff he had been using that day. In the end, he just pushed everything on the floor and headed for his bedroom.  
  
He emerged a few minutes later wearing jeans and a red plaid shirt open over a grey shirt with the A-Team logo across the chest.   
  
“Aren’t you forgetting shoes, Spencer?” Lassiter grumbled.  
  
“I’m not going out,” Shawn objected as he wiped his nose with another tissue. He grabbed a miniature bottle of hand sanitizer from the coffee table and applied it liberally to his hands. “By the way, thanks for these, Gus.” He pointed to an entire basket of the bottles labeled with different drug company brands.  
  
“Shawn, those were for my clients!” Gus exclaimed.  
  
“They were on your desk and the sign said free,” Shawn defended himself.  
  
“Maybe we should start the interview,” Juliet suggested as Shawn sat back down in his seat on the couch.  
  
Savannah moved a stack of DVDs and sat down on the corner of Shawn’s coffee table. She put her recorder on her knee and balanced her notebook on the other. “Alright, so when we were out today we met your father. I understand that he’s a retired police officer. How did his career influence the way you chose to use your psychic abilities?”   
  
Shawn shifted uncomfortably. “My dad always wanted me to be a cop. I guess he would say that this is me fulfilling his dream.”  
  
“Is that what you would say?” Savannah followed up.  
  
“I ...” Shawn trailed off.  
  
“Shawn’s dad is proud of what he does,” Gus interjected. “I know it’s not the way that he originally wanted Shawn to help out, but Shawn puts people behind bars, just like his dad did when he was on the force.”   
  
Savannah jotted down some notes and then asked the next question. “How old were you when you decided this was what you wanted to do for a living? I mean, I’m sure you thought of doing other things at some point, right?”  
  
“I have done a lot of other things,” Shawn agreed. “I had roughly eighteen and a half jobs while I searched for my perfect fit. I didn’t discover that I wanted to be a psychic detective until the ripe old age of twenty-nine.”  
  
Lassiter snorted in laughter.  
  
Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Something to add, Lassifrass?”  
  
“I was just thinking that you were still a five year old child,” the detective retorted.  
  
“At least I was a child at some point,” Shawn pointed out.   
  
“Okay.” Savannah interrupted as the usual banter between Shawn and Lassiter picked up speed. “Shawn, what is your favorite thing about working with the police?”  
  
Shawn turned his attention back to her, “Well, one of my favorite things is putting the prefix Lassi- on another word. Lassie, Lassiface, Lassifrass ...”  
  
“Lassisota,” Catie added, thinking back to McNab’s version.  
  
“Lassisota ...” Shawn repeated. “I like it. Nice one, Buzz!”  
  
Buzz grinned.  
  
“Another thing I like is the chance to work with such lovely ladies as yourselves,” Shawn continued, winking at Catie as she snapped a picture.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Lassiter crossed his arms and opened his mouth. Juliet elbowed him to interrupt whatever he was about to say.  
  
“Okay.” Savannah cleared her throat, giving Shawn a small smile. “So, what would you say you’ve learned the most from working with the department?”  
  
Shawn thought for a second before answering. “I’d say that I’ve learned that the police are on the right track most of the time; they just need a psychic nudge to put them completely on the right track.”  
  
Savannah and Catie both looked a little puzzled at his answer. “Well, thank you for your time.” Savannah stood up from her seat. “I think between these questions and the information everyone else gave us, we have enough for a solid article.”  
  
“You’re still going to write the article?” Lassiter asked, a little shocked.  
  
“We have a job, just like all of you,” Catie reminded him as she started putting away her camera. “If we don’t turn in something, our editor won’t be very happy.”  
  
Once the reporters’ car was out of sight, Lassiter turned to Shawn. “Well this is fine and dandy. I’m so glad your idea worked out so well,” he snapped, the sarcasm clearly visible in his voice.  
  
“I’m not the one who messed up my idea,” Shawn defended himself.  
  
“Actually, you are.”  
  
Shawn gave Lassiter a grin. “I’ve heard it both ways.”  
  
“But it was still your idea,” Gus pointed out.  
  
“I didn’t think I did such a bad job,” McNab put in.  
  
“Well, it isn’t hard to run around and make ridiculous claims on cases,” Lassiter retorted.  
  
“Guys!” Juliet was frustrated with the bickering. “It’s over now; if we’re lucky, they won’t call the chief, and she’ll just see the article when it comes out. Now, I have paperwork to file at the station from the Michaels’ fire.”  
  
Lassiter continued to glare at Shawn as he followed Juliet out the door.  
  
McNab mumbled a good-bye and ran to catch up when he realized they were his ride as well, leaving Shawn and Gus standing in the doorway of Shawn’s apartment.  
  
“You still owe me for those hand sanitizers,” Gus reminded his friend. “Now get some sleep; I’ve got to go clean up your dad’s mess at my apartment.”  
  
Shawn watched him get in the Blueberry and then went back inside to finish his season of Magnum P.I.

* * *

Two weeks later, Shawn was back on his feet and solving cases again. He and Gus were at the station picking up their check from a suspected train station robbery, which turned out to be the work of a drug gang.  
  
“Good morning, detectives!” Shawn proclaimed as he spied Lassiter and Juliet huddled around the head detective’s desk. Shawn paused when he saw McNab there as well.  
  
“Is that the new issue of Back Up?” Gus asked when he saw the magazine spread out on the desk.  
  
Juliet nodded. “Savannah and Catie sent us an issue overnight so we’d get to see it before anyone else.”  
  
“What does it say about me?” Shawn grabbed for the magazine. Lassiter reluctantly let him have it, and Shawn flipped until he found a page with a picture of all of them huddled around the couch in his apartment. “Oh man, my hair looks atrocious.”  
  
“Just read the article,” Gus said impatiently.  
  
Juliet took the magazine from Shawn, cleared her throat, and began reading aloud.  
  
“In the world of police work, there are the normal everyday procedures that have been used time and again, and then there are newer approaches. Psychic detectives are one of the latter, but even psychics cannot always foresee everything that gets thrown their way.”  
  
“Hey!” Shawn protested. “I knew I was going to be sick; I just didn’t know when.”  
  
Giving him a stern look for interrupting, Juliet continued. “Whether it is something as important as a bullet or as seemingly small as a cold, they only serve to remind us that Shawn Spencer is still human, just like the rest of us.”  
  
“What do they say about the rest of us?” Lassiter grabbed the paper out of his partner’s hands.  
  
“Careful!” Juliet protested when the page tore slightly.  
  
“Spencer, the head psychic with the Santa Barbara Police department,” Lassiter picked up reading where Juliet stopped, “is called in when a case stumps the more traditional detectives, like head detective Carlton Lassiter, or when it doesn’t even look like a case at all.” Lassiter rolled his eyes and handed the magazine to Gus. “That’s ridiculous; I’ve solved hundreds of cases without the two of you,” he grumbled.  
  
Gus found the next paragraph and continued reading. “Any good hero needs a good sidekick, and Spencer has found the Robin to his Batman in Burton Guster, his friend since childhood.”  
  
“Funny, I would have gone with the Captain America and Bucky analogy,” Shawn commented.  
  
Gus ignored him and kept reading. “Guster, or Gus as he likes to be called, isn’t the only friend Shawn has. We also met Buzz McNab, a rookie officer in the department, and Detectives Lassiter and Juliet O’Hara.”  
  
“You guys really think I’m your friend?” McNab looked hopeful.  
  
“I hope friend is a loose term,” Lassiter grunted.  
  
“Carlton,” Juliet scolded.  
  
Shawn snatched the magazine from Gus’ hands and picked up the reading. “It might seem strange to talk about friends in an article on psychic detective work, but without these friends, this article never would have been written.” Shawn frowned and flipped through the next two pages. “This goes on forever!” he complained.  
  
“Just do what you did for the last Harry Potter book and skip to the end,” Gus suggested.  
  
Shawn found the end of the article and started reading the last few paragraphs. “Between a fire, a robbery, and trying to be a real psychic, Buzz McNab proved his true colors by being a real friend. Detectives Lassiter and O’Hara could have easily brushed off these reporters and left us to uncover this story by ourselves, but they helped out Shawn and gave us a taste of what old school police work is all about.” Shawn looked up at Lassiter. “See Lassie, your face didn’t scare them off.”  
  
“My face ...?” Lassiter looked confused.  
  
Shawn ignored him and kept reading. “Burton Guster kept us entertained and filled us in on what being a psychic is all about, which dear readers, includes having friends. If there is one thing we can all learn from Shawn Spencer and the folks here at the SBPD, it is that friendship is one of the most valuable assets in any field.”  
  
When Shawn finished, no one said anything. McNab finally coughed to break the awkward silence.  
  
“At least they didn’t rat us out completely,” Gus acknowledged.  
  
Juliet scanned the part of the article they hadn’t read. “They talk about Buzz playing Shawn, but they don’t say anything about a fake crime scene.”  
  
“That’s because, as far as they know, it was real.” Lassiter reminded her.  
  
As Juliet flipped the magazine closed, the door to the chief’s office swung open and a familiar voice addressed the group.  
  
“Detectives, Officer McNab, may I see you in my office please?”  
  
Shawn leapt to his feet. “Well, we really should be going ...”  
  
“Mr. Spencer,” Vick’s voice stopped him in his tracks, “I need to see you and Mr. Guster, as well.”  
  
Lassiter gave Shawn and Gus a withering look and stalked across the station to the chief’s office. The others followed him, each giving the other a silent look to not tell her anything besides what was in the article.  
  
After all, what else were friends for?


	6. Visions, Vibes and Police Procedures

Visions, Vibes and Police Procedures  
By Savannah Raymond  
Photography by Catie Emerson  
  
In the world of police work, there are the normal everyday procedures that have been used time and again, and then there are newer approaches. Psychic detectives are one of the latter, but even psychics cannot always foresee everything that gets thrown their way. Whether it is something as important as a bullet or as seemingly small as a cold, they only serve to remind us that Shawn Spencer is still human, just like the rest of us.  
  
Spencer, the head psychic with the Santa Barbara Police department, is called in when a case stumps the more traditional detectives, like head detective Carlton Lassiter, or when it doesn’t even look like a case at all.  
  
Any good hero needs a good sidekick, and Spencer has found the Robin to his Batman in Burton Guster, his friend since childhood. Guster, or Gus as he likes to be called, isn’t the only friend Shawn has. We also met Buzz McNab, a rookie officer in the department, and Detectives Lassiter and Juliet O’Hara.  
  
It might seem strange to talk about friends in an article on psychic detective work, but without these friends, this article never would have been written.  
  
When we showed up the the Psych office last month, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We were greeted by Detective Lassiter, who is called Lassie by Shawn. He symbolized one end of our spectrum. With his suit, clean appearance, and gruff manner, Lassiter represented normal police. Then we met Shawn Spencer: jeans, polo and a carefree attitude. He was the picture of a new approach.  
  
There was only one problem; we didn’t actually meet Shawn Spencer. Unbeknownst to us, the tall, dark-haired “psychic” was really Officer Buzz McNab of the Santa Barbara Police Department. The real Shawn Spencer was home sick, and his friends were so devoted to making this article go well that they decided to give us a psychic, real or not.  
  
During our interview, detectives Lassiter and O’Hara were called to the scene of a robbery. They graciously let us tag along, and there we were able to see a psychic in action. Through a series of concealed phone messages, Shawn pointed the detectives in the right direction.  
  
Although it was an unusual event for the team to be pulled from one case and sent to another, once they had obtained several clues on the robbery, a call from dispatch had us heading to the scene of an arson. The physical clues may have been scarce, but the psychic vibes were strong, and the two detectives were quickly interviewing suspects.  
  
After finding the person responsible for the fire, “Shawn” and Gus were able to sit down and answer some more questions. Despite being careful about their phone calls at the scene of the crime, the real Shawn Spencer wasn’t so careful after the case was closed. The details of the charade to which we’d been witnesses soon came out, and it wasn’t long before we met the real Shawn Spencer.  
  
Contrary to what we had thought before, Shawn Spencer really is as spastic and off the wall as he seemed through our observations of McNab’s performance. He may not be the most traditional of detectives like his father was, but in the words of his friend Burton Guster, “Shawn’s dad is proud of what he does. I know it’s not the way that he originally wanted Shawn to help out, but Shawn puts people behind bars, just like his dad did when he was on the force.”  
  
After leaving Shawn Spencer’s old dry cleaners-turned-apartment, we had decided to write an article, we just weren’t sure what direction we wanted it to take. Instead of focusing on the actual police work like most of our previous stories, we decided to focus on the people involved.  
  
Between a fire, a robbery, and trying to be a real psychic, Buzz McNab proved his true colors by being a real friend. Detectives Lassiter and O’Hara could have easily brushed off these reporters and left us to uncover this story by ourselves, but they helped out Shawn and gave us a taste of what old school police work is all about.  
  
Burton Guster kept us entertained and filled us in on what being a psychic really means, which dear readers, includes having friends. If there is one thing we can all learn from Shawn Spencer and the folks here at the SBPD, it is that friendship is one of the most valuable assets in any field.


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